by A Kelly
He scorned her lack of reaction. ‘I’ve never made you come, have I? Why?’
He went out of the bedroom and came back with an empty wine bottle.
‘Not painful enough?’ he said and broke the bottle against the bedframe.
This time she wriggled. Behind the gag she begged him not to. Pleased at her response, he removed her gag.
‘Don’t… please!’
‘Tell me why I can’t turn you on, Summer.’
‘You always turn me on. The game we played – no one else could give me that.’
‘My cock will never satisfy you. Don’t lie to me. You always needed something, something else other than me. You don’t love me.’
‘I do love you,’ she said.
Bobby spread her legs, the broken bottle firmly in his hand.
She closed her legs with all her might and tried to scrunch herself to make it difficult for Bobby to reach her. He enjoyed her fear and slowed down.
‘Bobby, I love you. I’m here,’ she said panting. ‘Your cock doesn’t turn me on, but you do. What you do turns me on. Choke me. Rub your body against me. Those things turn me on. What’s wrong with that?’
He caressed her face. The calluses were still there. ‘No one loves you more than I do.’
‘I’m yours, Bobby. You can fuck me, you can choke me till I die. Do what you want, but don’t make me bleed.’
He showed her his new tattoo, right under the Mother’s last embrace inscription: Summer – between an Alpha and an Omega. So to Bobby she was his beginning and his end. She stretched her shoulder and neck to reach it and kiss the tattoo.
‘I’m yours,’ she said.
He lowered himself, ready to make love to her again. Making love Bobby’s way. But she didn’t even let him start this time. Before his body completely pinned her down, she bent her knee and thumped his gut. She opened her legs, only to close them again and pinch his neck like a pair of scissors and throw him to the floor. She ran, but Bobby tripped her.
He met her with a killer stare. Anticipating she would now use her still-bound wrists to strangle him, he used his upper body weight to immobilise her arms. Then he knelt in between her legs, scrabbling to push his cock in again.
Out of any night, tonight she needed a weapon – and she had it, Bobby had brought it to her. With his force concentrating on her arms and pelvis, although trapped, she had enough room to stretch her right leg to reach the broken wine bottle lying next to the bed base. Slowly she rolled it towards her left foot. Once the bottle was between her legs, right behind Bobby, with her feet acting like a pincer, she picked the bottle by its neck and lifted her bent knees as if opening herself up to Bobby. Relying on her toe muscles for strength, she stabbed him with the two protruding edges around the bottle’s jagged rim and those were enough to make the bottle stay on his back. He let her go and tried to reach for the bottle on her back, but in doing so he stretched and apparently tore his wounds even more. He screamed and she kicked him back.
She didn’t mind blood tonight, as long as it was his.
While Bobby was collapsing, she ran, closed the bedroom door, and jammed the foldable plastic dining table under the handle to prevent the lever from moving down. Her attempt was clumsy with her hands still being tied together, she knew the ‘fortification’ would crumble in a matter of seconds. She rushed to the front door, but where could she run to? Barefoot, and naked? Tim had always taught her to do the unexpected. She stomped the floor, pretending she was running away, she scattered her socks on the floor, but she took her shoes with her and went to the kitchen. Hugging her shoes, clutching a knife, she hid inside the pantry. She cut her hands free.
As she’d expected, Bobby soon emerged from the bedroom with only a few kicks. He walked out of the house. She knew she’d only inflicted a flesh wound. He’d likely stayed down because of shock.
A few minutes later Bobby came back. She heard him go into the bathroom, the wardrobe, and the garage. She trembled when she knew Bobby was on the other side of the pantry door, imagining him holding that bottle. The pantry was too slim for someone to consider a human could get in, and he didn’t know the botched renovation had left it hollow – no shelves. Standing sideways, squatting slightly, Summer had just made it in.
Soon she heard him driving away.
She listened in closely behind the pantry door. Bobby had been driving around, back and forth. After a few rounds, the engine noise faded into the distance.
There was long silence.
She took a chance that he wouldn’t come back this time. She got dressed, packed, and tiptoed to Pop’s driveway. To her relief, the old man hadn’t listened to her and the keys were still inside the car.
When morning came, Summer rang Pop as she drove his Holden Commodore along the National Highway 1.
‘Pop, I’ve got your car.’
‘That’s fine, love. Yours broken?’
‘Yes. Look, Pop, I’m taking your Commodore out of Darwin, and I’m not coming back.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m sorry, Pop. I can’t say. I’ve sent you some money. Please don’t tell anyone. Please.’
‘Summer… I won’t. You didn’t even have to send me money. Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. Buy yourself a nice car and please, lock it.’
So where to now? For the first time she feared Bobby. Being hurt in a fight with a psychopath was one thing, but being raped by one was an ordeal she wouldn’t go through again. She needed to disappear but who would she turn to? She couldn’t ask Sofia to create another identity for her. Perhaps she could flee to the US. What would she do there? She had wanted to kill Summer Washington. She couldn’t make herself live as her for the rest of her life.
No. Bobby was her unfinished business and she would finish it. She just had to pick a place – somewhere she could be anonymous, somewhere she could be at peace if she had to meet her end; and if it was Bobby’s end that she had to face, it would be somewhere far away from people she knew. She would give herself up, on her terms, and defend herself like Pierre had defended Bobby.
‘Shit!’ Summer slammed on the brakes as an Eastern grey kangaroo decided to turn towards the road and cross right in front of her.
‘Bloody roo!’
Much as she wanted to stay on the road, with her vision blurring and her body running on empty, she decided to stop at the next town, Katherine, about 320km south of Darwin. She had lunch and bought a new SIM card. Before she’d had a chance to put it into her mobile, Tim rang. She reluctantly answered.
‘I’m out of Darwin, Tim.’
‘Why didn’t you say goodbye?’
‘You were right about me running. Maybe it was to run away from my father at first, but right now I am running away from a living man.’
She sent Tim an article about Bobby.
‘I married him.’
‘Jesus, Summer! Come back to Darwin. I will keep you safe.’
‘You don’t know him, Tim. I would never put you or Sylvia in danger.’
‘Summer, please! For once, listen to me.’
‘I’m a big girl now. I can handle him.’
‘No, you can’t. You’re on the run. You can’t handle him! Where are you going?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why don’t you call the police?’
‘What can they do? Issue an AVO?’
Tim went silent. Then he said, ‘Listen, I know a man, another marine, he can protect you.’
‘Don’t. Don’t involve anyone, please.’
She didn’t want a man’s protection. She just wanted a place to rest.
‘I can help you settle somewhere. That psycho found you because he knows you. If someone else acts on your behalf, he won’t be able to track you.’
‘Tim, don’t—’
‘Summer, name a place. You don’t have to know how, or who will do it. Just name a place.’
She pondered. Anonymous, peaceful, far away…
‘Penguin.�
�
‘Where the hell is that?’
‘Tasmania. Four hours from Hobart.’
‘All right.’
‘I will change my number soon, I’ll let you know,’ Summer said. ‘You keep safe, Tim. Keep Sylvia safe.’
‘How the hell did you escape from him?’
‘You’d trained me well.’
Summer pushed herself to continue driving and make use of the remaining daylight. By night fall she managed to reach the town of Pamayu. She was now more than 800km away from Darwin and was in the middle of nowhere. Once she was in her motel room, she vomited violently. She was resolute about finishing her business, but right now she was crying out for a rest, a break from the hell she had created.
Low battery warning flashed on her mobile phone. She switched it off and put in the new SIM card she’d bought in Katherine. As she lay in bed, wearing her day clothes, she reached for the bedside table and put the phone on a charger. The plug made buzzing noises when she connected it to the wall socket, but it seemed to settle and the phone was being charged despite the loose connection. She then glanced at her bag, ready to go. She checked her car keys right next to her mobile and wallet. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
At dawn she woke up smelling burning.
‘Shit!’
Her mobile had short-circuited, it was ruined and so was the SIM card inside it.
14
Not a ghost
‘Look who’s here,’ Joseph Russo greeted Sandra McLeod, his real estate agent friend, as he pulled his car over. ‘The Beam House finally off your portfolio?’
‘Sshh!’ Sandra said, standing nervously next to the mailbox. ‘My client is inside. Don’t you say anything!’
‘Ah! That’s why you got the cleaners to come the other day.’
‘He’s only interested in renting,’ Sandra said softly.
‘He? No family?’
‘Why, does it matter?’
‘No, just curious.’
‘I think he’s single,’ Sandra said while looking back at the house, anticipating her client would come out soon. ‘He’s big, like you.’
‘So, a big, single guy who’s not afraid of… an apparition of a Victorian woman?’ Joseph couldn’t wait to hear her rant about the property being ghost-free.
Sandra was about to, but her client, who seemed to have finished inspecting the property, walked out to join her. She rushed to him as if she didn’t want him to come near Joseph. ‘What do you think?’ she asked the man.
Joseph pulled back into the road and drove on. The guy was big, all right. Based on his body language, though, Joseph bet it wasn’t Sandra’s lucky day.
Half-way up his own driveway, Joseph caught a loud, low voice directed at him. ‘Hello there!’ An American accent. He parked the car and got out.
‘G’day!’ Joseph greeted his potential neighbour, a half-metre-high fence separating them. He had smallish eyes, thin lips, and lots of creases. He had blonde military hair that was going grey near his temples. He looked fierce, like there was a rhino inside him – one that was currently calm but could launch into a deadly charge without warning.
‘Joseph, this is Tim,’ said Sandra awkwardly.
It happened in half a second, but Joseph noticed Tim frown when Sandra mentioned his name.
‘Welcome to Penguin,’ said Joseph.
‘I haven’t decided, but thanks,’ Tim said.
‘Did you like the house?’ asked Joseph. ‘Sandra might’ve told you—’
‘Joseph owns a local pet shop,’ Sandra cut him off. ‘And apparently he has the best biceps in Penguin, which I don’t believe they are.’ She discreetly glared at Joseph.
Tim’s biceps were as big as his, Joseph observed. Maybe he’d lose that title soon.
Tim grinned.
‘But overall he’s a great gentleman,’ Sandra added.
‘We have two more houses to see tomorrow. Are you still keen to check them out?’ Sandra asked.
‘Sure,’ Tim said.
‘Bye, Joey!’ Sandra flashed a wave.
Joseph turned around and walked leisurely up to his door. From behind him, he heard Tim declining Sandra’s offer to drive him back to his motel. It wasn’t loud, but clear. ‘I’ll take a look around and walk back from here. Give myself a chance to stretch my legs,’ Tim said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Joseph turned his key. He was facing the door but Tim was almost behind him.
‘Hey, man, can I bother you for a minute?’ Tim said.
‘Sure, come on in.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Tea? Coffee?’
‘No thanks.’
‘Beer?’
‘Tell me everyone in this town is like you and I’ll decide here and now to start my new life in Penguin,’ Tim said. ‘Beer would be nice, thanks.’
‘I was born and raised here. I think I represent Penguinians pretty well. Where are you from, Tim?’
‘Well, I’m from the US, as you’ve probably guessed. Montana.’
‘Right. Never been to America,’ Joseph said. ‘Why Penguin?’
‘I’m looking for a quiet, quirky life,’ Tim said quickly, as if he’d rehearsed that answer.
‘It’s a great neighbourhood. Wouldn’t say it’s quirky; quiet, yes. I used to live closer to the town centre, but I’ve lived in this house since I got married. Never heard of any crimes, or any troubles really.’
‘Who lives in the other house?’
‘On the north side of the Beam House? Mrs Strauss. She’s a saint.’
‘The Beam House, huh?’ Tim said. ‘So, this Mrs Strauss, she lives by herself?’
‘Her husband died about a year ago. Her family live all over Australia, but they regularly visit her.’
‘How about the gentleman opposite?’
Joseph didn’t even know Jeremy was home. This Montana man seemed to have incredible observation skills, and he was obviously investigating this neighbourhood for more than just a new home. ‘Jeremy… he’s a puppy. Might look at you funny, but it’s his way. He’s just become a dad for the second time.’
Joseph watched his guest scanning his living room. Those blue eyes stopped at his medals.
‘A champion open water swimmer. Impressive.’
‘Long time ago,’ Joseph replied.
‘Is it even safe here? I mean, aren’t there too many sharks in the Australian waters?’
Joseph chuckled. ‘The worst injury I had was a dislocated thumb, when I got caught in a rip and thrown against a rock.’
Tim smiled and nodded. He continued looking around.
‘What do you do?’ Joseph asked.
‘I’m a retired marine.’
‘Oh, I see. What does a retired marine do?’
‘Well, chill out, start a new life. Every now and then headquarters call me to train the troops. Close-quarter combat mostly.’
‘So you’re a martial arts guy,’ Joseph said, studying the marine’s biceps.
‘Yeah. Any karate centre here?’
‘We have the Penguin Budo, not karate. I can introduce you to the head of the association. They train at Johnston Beach. I can show you. They’re very small, though – they share a hall with the scouts.’
Tim’s eyes were now at Emily’s photo.
‘My late wife,’ Joseph said.
‘And that’s your daughter?’
Joseph remained quiet. He switched Tim’s attention to the next photo. ‘And that’s Piper. She died twelve years go. What else do you want to know?’
Tim sipped his beer. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stick my nose in.’
The two men finished their bottles without saying much.
Joseph was showing Tim the door when a boy from three houses away ran to him and yelled, ‘Joseph!’
‘Philip, what’s wrong?’
‘Shadow is stuck again.’
‘Far out! Your dad needs to do something about that hole!’ Joseph said, and ran with Philip to the boy’s ho
use.
‘Dad said when Shadow got bigger he wouldn’t go into the hole anymore,’ the boy argued.
‘Yeah… he gets stuck instead!’ said Joseph.
Joseph knew Shadow would be able to pull himself out, but he wasn’t a very bright dog. He also knew anyone would have the strength to pull him out; the trouble was, the dog would bite any hand that touched him when he was in distress, including his own family. And no one wanted to muck around with a German shepherd’s jaws.
Except Joseph Russo.
‘Hey, buddy!’ Joseph said stepping towards Shadow, the dog’s head poking out of the familiar hole in Philip’s backyard like a hand puppet. Phillip’s dad seemed to have put some grates over the hole but Shadow had dug around it and somehow managed to roll it over and uncover the hole. The German shepherd growled as Joseph crouched. ‘Easy, boy. Easy.’
Shadow was all fangs and teeth now, whale-eyed. Joseph sat next to him, at a safe distance. ‘It’s okay, Shadow. It’s okay.’ Slowly he inched closer, ignoring the dog’s stare. When Shadow finally calmed down, he carefully extended his hand to touch the mutt’s barely visible neck. ‘Easy… easy…’ Joseph whispered as Shadow started growling again. His growls soon turned into soft woofs as Joseph stroked his fluffy throat.
Joseph sighed. He was wrong. The dog couldn’t have pulled himself out this time, and if there was anybody who could lift him up, it would be Joseph himself (or Tim, who was watching from a metre away). The pup had truly outgrown the hole.
‘Can I help?’ Tim said.
‘Get a spade,’ Joseph said motioning the shed. ‘You are in deep trouble, boy,’ he said to Shadow, who simply rolled his eyes, as if embarrassed. But when Tim approached, Shadow soon showed him his teeth.
‘Stop there, mate,’ Joseph said to Tim who had to outstretch his arm to hand over the spade.
Slowly, Joseph dug the ground around the dog. ‘Easy, Shadow boy.’ He kept the dog engaged by whistling and giving him treats, which Philip had been passing over. When he’d created a trench around (but not too close to) Shadow, he started digging with his bare hands, following the circumference of the dog’s neck. ‘You’re all right, boy, almost there.’